Hustling to pack-up my sleeping gear, the irony of first being told to hurry and get on the ferry and then a few hours later to hurry and get off the ferry was not lost on me. As I’d only been off the bike for three and a half hours, I still had some time of the six hour mandated daily rest remaining. I pootled down to Picton looking for anything that might be open. There was a greasy spoon open – I hadn’t had both first- and second-breakfast in the same place yet, but here I was trying to eat and kill time; so that was what happened.

The six-hours over, I rode off a bit more subdued than previous days. In part this was due to the big day and night ride just completed, but mostly I just wasn’t as excited about this part of the route. That was only because I’d done pretty much all of it the year before over three days on the Kiwi Brevet, albeit in the opposite direction (one of the big hike-a-bike hills was optional on Tour Aotearoa – apparently only one person took that option; I had no desire to tackle Porika again if I didn’t have to). So I’d seen most of the next few hundred kilometres before and the excitement of exploration was gone. On top of that, I was familiar with most of the rest of the course – only really looking forward to the West Coast Wilderness Trail and the Around the Mountains section.

Having said that, I knew it was going to be beautiful riding – knowing that I was now ahead of schedule, I decided to take things rather more slowly. Following Queen Charlotte Drive to Havelock there are great views of Queen Charlotte Sound. There was another optional trail beside the rode – keen to see something new, I took that for its short distance. It was a wise choice, despite it adding almost two hundred metres of climbing in the first two of its five kilometres – the views were so much better from this vantage point.

Leaving Picton

Up on the optional trail.

Also on the optional bit.

No dolphins this year at Grove, much to my disappointment. That dusk sighting is an enduring memory of last year’s Kiwi Brevet.

Leaving Queen Charlotte Sound, it’s a pretty flat hour (at the relaxed pace I was going that day) to Havelock. The last town before the big hill I knew was coming soon, it seemed a good place to stop for an early lunch (and stock up for second-lunch). Somewhere along the way, I’d started drinking milkshakes – they always seem to go down well and became another staple of the trip. From Havelock it was another twenty flat kilometres, this on quiet highway, before we turned off to tackle Maungatapu. I thought a nap and second-lunch was called for. It was a warm day and forty winks over thirty minutes in the shade was just lovely.

An hour following the Pelorus River upstream on undulating, but gradually climbing of course, gravel ensued before the toughest climb of the whole route began. I assume the track up there is basically just a rugged service road for the powerlines that go over the hill to/from Nelson. It’s double track and I took it rather slowly, knowing at least that going in this direction should be a lot easier than riding over from the Nelson side. And it was, I probably rode most of it until the last kilometre (or two, now that I look at the GPS data) before the surface became too loose for my tired legs and slicker-than-last-year tyres. With little wind and the sun beating down on me it was also stinking hot. I had a bit of a rest at the top – that seven kilometres and seven hundred metres of climbing took me the best part of two hours. So much for an easy day.

We went where the powerlines ended up, thankfully not by the same route.

The trail before it got steeper and looser – still pretty steep at this point.

Hard to believe I was at sea-level but twenty kilometres before – that’s quite a few hills in amongst the sea.

The descent was even steeper, as I remembered, dropping over five hundred metres in about four kilometres – and, boy, was it rough! I managed to grit it out with my fully-rigid and loaded bike bouncing around. I was not surprised to hear later that quite a few people walked this descent; still, better than riding up it – that was tough!

We dropped down to this reservoir, before having to steeply climb a short distance before it was mostly gently down the Maitai Valley to Nelson.

Nearing Nelson, I was pretty tired from the ride to Wellington and, particularly, Maungatapu – I thought a early knock-off was prudent. There were quite a few open homes around Nelson, but there was enough reserves to go a little further, although not much. I ended up staying in the lounge of Mike the Scout just off the route in Richmond. I think I’d missed this previously – Mike earned that nickname by pre-riding the course in the school holidays (as he’s a teacher he couldn’t join the rest of us). I gratefully accepted a roast dinner and enjoyed comparing notes on riding the course at different times.

Clearly five meals wasn’t enough for the day – I rode down to the supermarket to resupply snacks for the following day and was hungry again, so just had to get a large burger and another milkshake. Rest day over, I was pleased to have the toughest climb of the trip out of the way; I slept well. But looking at my spreadsheet confirms my feeling that it wasn’t really a rest day – Maungatapu easily made it the day with the highest specific climbing (that’s a term I just made up, it sounds good and I’m sure I’m not the first to coin the term – the units are metres climbed per hundred kilometres travelled).

On the face of it, riding from Whanganui to Palmerston North should be a matter of four or five hours with little climbing. But that would be on highway and not nearly interesting enough for our route. Cue a rural route more than two and a half times as long, strewn with hills and six or seven times more climbing – on a lot of gravel roads. While this may sound a less attractive option – it was fantastic and I loved this day through northern Manawatu. Some may bemoan more farmland, but I found it beautiful, the hills not too bad and my favourite day of the Tour.

You’d have struggled to convince me of that assertion after ninety minutes of pre-dawn struggling into a stiff easterly towards Fordell. I had to stop and have a breather in the shelter of a still-closed store there. Knowing the windy reputation of the area, I was trying to prepare myself of two-hundred kilometres of strong headwinds. It wasn’t something I was looking forward to.

However, shortly after, the route turned north and dropped off the plateau into a valley – blissful shelter from the wind. All the hills that we encountered did a great job of keeping the wind from being too bothersome. I’m not sure how that worked as valleys usually funnel wind. Turning east again I was enjoying the rural nature of the ride again – there was plenty to look at.

I was surprised to see Mt Ruapehu in the distance all of a sudden (it’s the tallest peak in the North Island) as I looked out over all the hills.

Just before I reached Hunterville and State Highway One I had my first sighting of a trail angel. This was very exciting as I’d only heard tales of these wonderful people who provide refreshments trailside to riders of such events as this. I stopped for a while to partake of the homemade comestibles and chat. Despite all the good food, ride on one must. Hunterville was much bigger than I’d ever imagined having driven through on the highway many times. As there was a whole lot of not much as far as food supplies for a hundred kilometres, I managed to force myself to stop for second-breakfast and to buy first-lunch.

After a brief stint on the highway, we turned off at Vinegar Hill (which brought back memories of short-cuts driving to & from university many years ago). The climb after plunging down to the river was much more difficult on a bike; we turned off the sealed road soon after and I was on roads unknown to me once again. The climbing continued – there were more wide vistas, old buildings to catch my interest and few cars. With excellent cycling weather – warm, but cloudy enough to not be hot, no wind – the miles ticked by easily.

Just as I was getting peckish again – it had been a few hours since a meal, one can’t survive on bags of crisps and sweets alone – I found a little shaded turn-out at an ex-village. A pleasant spot for lunch. Here’s the history, if you can read it:

Old buildings continued to pique my interest.

Rangiwahia was bigger than I would have imagined if I’d ever heard of it. It would have been nice to poke around a bit and stay at the campground – but it was only just after noon. On to Palmy.

The highest point of the day came just as the route turned south towards Ashhurst – and about as close to the Ruahine Ranges as we got. From there it was downhill overall for the ninety kilometres to Palmy – but when there are rivers and valleys involved it’s never that simple.

Pleasant enough plains for a while.

Until you reach a valley carved out by water flowing out of the ranges – a big plunge and a steep climb to recover most of the altitude lost. You can just see the road going down the valley wall towards the left of this picture.

The clouds building up said the weather might not be so benign for so long.

I’d never been to Apiti either – I found the street signs caused a little bit of confusion.

There was a steep gravel downhill before the last tough climb of the day before dropping into the Pohangina Valley – things started to look familiar as I enjoyed a great day ride here a few months before as a little bit of reconnaissance. I stopped to visit the large totara trees that served as a photo checkpoint before carrying on down the valley. As I neared Palmerston North, the headwind strengthed – of course. I’d have been a fool to expect anything else.

Although it wasn’t far to the city, I knew there weren’t many shops on the route – it followed the bridle path besides the Manawatu. At least, that’s my excuse for stopping for second-lunch in Ashhurst. Still battling the wind I was content to call it a day in Palmy just shy of two hundred kilometres. The chance to stop riding before dark, and most importantly, do some washing was golden. While I’d had many more showers than I expected I would, my shirt in particular was pretty rank and seemed to be losing flexibility and setting into some shape with all the grime and sweat.

After the shorter first three days, I was now well into the groove of the Tour and clearly getting stronger and more able to ride for about twelve hours a day. Naturally this was pleasing, if a little surprising to me – especially as my legs never really complained about the hills. That’s not to say I was particularly fast, but I’d found a pace that I felt I could keep up for as long as necessary. Beautiful scenery, exploring this small but scenery-packed country and good weather also helped with well-pleased mood too.